


Permanent Marker

by aromantic-eight (rbmifan), patrexes



Category: RWBY
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, IronQrow Week, M/M, Shower Sex, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-05 17:11:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17922947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rbmifan/pseuds/aromantic-eight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrexes/pseuds/patrexes
Summary: Without meaning to, Qrow found himself watching James as he worked, looking over the bits of his chest and arm and neck he could see, trying to catch a glimpse of black lettering.James met his eye as he joined him over by the curtain. “I don’t have one,” he said before Qrow could look away or say anything. And then, “I never had one,” as if he couldhearQrow wondering if it had gotten excised with one of his limbs.





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**Author's Note:**

> written as a fill for day 2 "love languages" & day 6 "domestic life AU". it's not actually a domestic life _AU_ , but it's domestic and it's set _in_ an AU, so... close enough. 
> 
> there was supposed to be actual explicit content in this but trying to write it dissociated avia @patrexes out of commission for a full 22 hours. don't write your triggers, folks !! to that end, when/if you review, **please comment on _literally anything_ but the fact they're in the shower**. thanks.
> 
> special thanks also to @jonphaedrus for looking over this.

Qrow’d been dreaming about some kind of weird spoon collection in James’ airship that chased him into the airship’s weirdly soft bed, until he realized he really _was_ in a weirdly soft bed, sprawled out on his stomach and face smushed into a pillow and a warm body pressed up against his arm. _Gods_ , this bed was so much nicer than his own. Nobody was yelling at him to get up, so he was probably fine just lying here for another minute or fifty. He adjusted his head more firmly on the pillow with a satisfied sigh.

Gods, he was thirsty. He swallowed and licked his lips and tried to ignore it, but it was ruining the basking vibe. He really couldn’t even get fifteen minutes to enjoy not getting up, could he. He sighed again and started to push himself up, and then tensed as he was elbowed in the side by James wedging his arm out from under Qrow to hold it over his shoulder blades, effectively trapping Qrow in bed.

“Shh,” James said, and then nodded silently toward his other side.

Oz was still asleep, curled up on his side with one arm flung across James’ chest and the other tucked cutely under his head. His face was totally relaxed for the first time since the Spring Maiden had up and fucking _vanished_ , and Qrow’s early-morning irritation gave way to understanding.

He eased himself back down, propping himself up on his side to look at James again, and he could tell there was a sappy little smile plastered over his face, but what the hell. James wasn’t gonna tell.

“I need you to get my legs,” James told him, voice so low it was practically inaudible, and right, yeah, those were over by Oz’s side of the bed, weren’t they. Man was usually up at the ass-crack of dawn, so it just made sense to assume that side of the bed would be empty in the morning. “ _Quietly._ ”

“I can be quiet,” Qrow shot back, only a little bit louder. “I’m a _spy._ ”

James raised an eyebrow at him. Qrow sighed— _quietly—_ and slowly pushed himself up, careful not to disturb the sheets too much as he slipped out of the bed. If Qrow _did_ wake Ozpin up, James’d kill him, and he’d be right to. The man hadn’t gotten more than a couple fitful hours in nearly a week. Qrow had caught him stirring caffeine tablets into his hot cocoa the other day.

He crept slowly around the bed, desperately trying to remember if they’d thrown anything on the floor last night. It wasn’t like they’d had sex in here, not with Aspin fronting most of the night. And James usually kept his floors  _ruthlessly_ clean. When he reached Oz’s side of the bed he _very slowly_ started to feel around for where the legs had been left propped against the nightstand, hoping he’d be lucky enough to touch metal and not the much creepier synthetic skin on the prosthetics’ calves. They'd been turned off and getting cold for _hours_ now; it was gonna feel like touching a fucking corpse. The things he did for Jimmy.[1]

And ‘lucky’? _Hah_. That’d be the day. Qrow suppressed a shudder as his fingers touched clammy polymer. But he handled it with _tact_ and _maturity_ , and didn’t say a gods-damned word. James didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, Qrow thought as he made his way back with the legs tucked carefully in his arms. Reminding him to be quiet. What an asshole.

James had grabbed Qrow’s pillow while he’d been gone, stuffing it against the head of the bed. On Qrow’s return, he pointed at Qrow’s chest, then mimed with his hand lifting up Ozpin’s arm, before pointing at first the pillow and then his own chest. Qrow, two arms at his disposal, mimed back lifting Oz’s arm with one, pointing at James with the other. He twirled his pointed finger towards the side of the bed and raised his eyebrows.

James nodded resolutely, then copied his earlier motion towards the pillows.

“I got it,” Qrow mouthed. It wasn’t exactly _rocket science._ [2] Qrow leaned carefully over the bed and snuck his hand underneath Oz’s arm, holding it up barely an inch off of James’ body without closing his hand around the arm as James quickly rolled himself out from under it. Then Qrow stacked the pillows James had left behind and lowered Oz’s arm gently on top of them. He glanced at Oz’s face nervously as he finished, but Oz hadn’t so much as twitched.

Qrow proffered the prosthetics and James pulled the liners out, stuffed together inside one of the legs like a set of socks. He pulled them on one at a time, peering at Ozpin as he did. Even in the low light of morning through blackout curtains, James’ fondness was as obvious on his face as his concern that _breathing too loudly_ might wake Oz up. Dweeb.

There were hickies bruising purple on Ozpin’s bare neck, and ink from a broken pen stained his fingers; the second was the fault of Qrow’s Semblance, but the first was all Jimmy. “You did a hell of a number on him,” Qrow murmured, maneuvering the left leg’s prosthetic into place as James engaged the pin lock and turned it on.

“ _He_ did a number on _me_ ,” James whispered back as he held onto Qrow’s shoulder to leverage himself up. There weren’t any bruises on his neck, though, or anywhere else visible for that matter. Which meant that was _metaphorical_.

Qrow shot him an unimpressed look even as he held the other prosthetic steady for James to slip into. “Gay,” he breathed, mouth inches from James’ ear.

“That’s the general idea,” James replied, and caught his lips in a kiss. “Oh,” a second later. “Bad breath.” He made a face.

Swallowing his laugh for Oz’s sake, Qrow followed James into the ensuite. He closed the bathroom door silently behind them before flipping on the light, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden glare. By the time he opened them again, James was already busy taking a piss across the room, which was only a little smaller than Qrow’s entire apartment.[3]

“How long have you been awake?” Qrow asked, pitching his voice low enough that it shouldn’t carry outside the room.

James took a second to reply. “Half an hour? I didn’t want to wake him.”

“You could have woken _me._ ”

James opened his mouth a couple of times, and then looked pointedly down at the toilet bowl. “The need only recently became urgent.”

Qrow scoffed. “How do you even _exist_ , Jimmy?” He picked up the bottle of mouthwash James had beside his sink (which was tiny, the better to flaunt the fucking transparent 3D snowflakes that decorated the oversized counter) and peered at the label. _‘Arctic rush’_ didn’t sound like anything _he_ wanted to be kissing, but James was probably into kissing icicles. He took a swig and gargled it loudly, head tilted back and mouth wide open.

James frowned at him, apparently confused, and damn if it wasn’t kind of cute. Qrow would have kicked the guy out of bed if nature’d called, James’ beauty sleep be damned, and here was ol’ General Ironwood, infamous hardass, unwilling to disturb either of his sleeping boyfriends. What a fucking sap.

James zipped himself up with a quietly hissed curse that meant Qrow’s Semblance had also woken up now. Joy. Then he wandered over to the sink and tossed the little zipper handle onto the counter, sticking his finger into his mouth.

“So,” Qrow said after several seconds of this, and after he’d spat the mouthwash out. “Are we planning on just hanging around in here until Oz wakes up, or what?”

“Well,” James started, then stopped. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, to be honest. He hasn’t woken up _yet_ ,” he said consideringly, looking at the door like he could see Ozpin through it.

“I give—” Qrow paused and did some quick odds in his head “—sixty percent chance we hit the fucking creaky floorboard in front of the door and then knock something over.”

James frowned, but he didn’t argue. That’s what Qrow was here for: witty commentary and ruining people’s plans. He put the mouthwash back and examined the other assorted bottles with feigned interest. Ball was in Jimmy’s court now.

“If we’re staying here…” James trailed off, glancing around the bathroom, then plucked at his sweaty sleep shirt. “I could use a shower, I suppose.” He looked at Qrow, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Huh. “That an invitation?” He tried for flirtatious, but it came out more hesitant than he’d planned. Jimmy _hated_ being naked in front of people. Qrow’d seen him show up to a pool party once in a wetsuit under his trunks and a long-sleeved shirt. In a shower, and without any more intimate distractions? “I didn’t know you were into tripping in showers, Jimmy.”

James’ expectant look shifted into something less sure immediately. “That won’t be a problem, actually.” He gestured vaguely downward. “These aren’t actually waterproof. Water _resistant_ , to a point…”

“Fuck, yeah, I’ll be taller than you. You should’ve _led_ with that, Jimmy.” Not that he minded that both his boyfriends were tall as fuck, but it got old sometimes. Anyway, James' water pressure was _amazing_. Qrow'd become very familiar with it over years of crashing at his place and having more or less free rein in the morning when James left for his ridiculously early work day.

He abandoned the sink and started walking toward the shower tucked into a corner of the huge bathroom. A clear curtain hung on the left side, in front of an ornate stone bench and a manual shower head placed annoyingly low on the wall. Both the shower head and the bars placed on either side of the bench were somehow tinted so that the steel seemed almost an iridescent blue. The soap dispensers had little LED lights that, Qrow knew from experience, reflected off the shimmering metal in a way that looked exactly like some kind of fucked up Atlesian research dungeon when you walked into the bathroom half asleep in the dark.

Qrow stripped off his shirt and pants without fanfare, tossing then against the wall a couple feet from the shower. He hesitated when he got to his wristband, then pulled that off too. Fuck it. If James was getting vulnerable here, Qrow could too. He glanced over at James to find him totally naked, using medical tape and a formed sheet of plastic to cover the complicated machinery that replaced half of his torso. How the fuck did he do that so fast?

Without meaning to, Qrow found himself watching James as he worked, looking over the bits of his chest and arm and neck he could see, trying to catch a glimpse of black lettering.

James met his eye as he joined him over by the curtain. “I don’t have one,” he said before Qrow could look away or say anything. And then, “I never had one,” as if he could _hear_ Qrow wondering if it had gotten excised with one of his limbs.

He pulled the curtain aside and stepped over the lip of the shower, not looking at Qrow as he took a seat on the bench. Qrow hovered next to the curtain a little awkwardly. Everyone had a soulmark, even the people who just had something shitty and useless like “Hi!” or “It’s nice to meet you”.[4] He’d seen some shitty thrillers that threw in someone ‘markless’ in an attempt at some kind of creepy foreshadowing but he’d never heard of it actually _happening_.

“I, uh,” he started. “Should I be giving you my condolences or something?” he said, because he sucked at this kind of thing.

James clicked one of his legs off and, without looking up at him, said, “Please don’t, actually.” He glanced at the floor and then toward the bathroom door, and silently handed the leg out to Qrow. “Could you put that on a towel or something where I can reach it? I don’t want it clattering.”

“You only like me for my legs,” Qrow told him as he fetched an impossibly fluffy towel. Gods, he loved James’ apartment.

“I love your legs,” James leaned back on the bench as he was walking back, and he gave them a _very_ appreciative once over. Qrow felt himself flush.

“Keep that up and we’re not going to make it to the part where we’re supposed to be getting clean.” He laid the towel down and put the leg on top of it, and James handed over the second leg and his liners before holding the curtain out of the way so Qrow could join him.

James grabbed the shower head and started the water after a second of pressing at the little temperature control screen, which was fucking annoying when Qrow'd spent literally a half hour trying to figure out how to get to the _menu_ the first time he'd used this. Qrow found himself looking at James again, as if some line of magic ink was going to materialize on his left shoulder if Qrow stared hard enough. “You really never had one?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“I used to wish I did,” James said quietly. He handed the shower head to Qrow and pumped soap into his hand from the wall dispenser. “I’d lie awake in bed at night and pray that maybe one would just… appear in my sleep. Then I met Ozpin.” He gave a rueful smile at that, and glanced fondly at the door. “And there are worse things than not having a mark.”

Qrow laughed, but he couldn’t put much humor in it. He knew what James meant. Better to have no soulmate than one who woke you up screaming. But it was hard, just then, to think about the millennia-old question that coiled around Oz’s throat like it was choking him, _Are you to be my savior?_ It was hard to think about anything except the memory of being eight years old again, helpless on his back as members of his tribe were screaming. The disheveled and blood-spattered man with silver hair who loomed above him and said, quiet and nowhere _near_ cruel enough for what those words did to him: _You shouldn’t be here._

Qrow knew a little bit about soulmarks and nightmares. He clasped his wrist unconsciously, covering the words. “Tell me about it.” He distracted himself by trying to find a shower head angle that'd let him bask in the water for a bit, hovering it over his shoulder and neck, before he went for the soap.

“Oh. I forgot that you—” And it was James’ turn to look uncertain. “Ozpin told me—a little bit about how you. Met. I’m sorry.”

“I’m surprised he remembers,” Qrow mused.[5] Then he caught the look on James’ face. “Gods, Jimmy, you don’t have to be _weird_ about it.” Qrow crouched slightly to drop the shower head gently on the ground, and the water sprayed over his feet as he stepped up and leaned into James space with a smirk. He slipped a hand covered in body wash down to rest against one of James’ thighs just above the stump, his other one resting on the wall behind James. “I can think of _way_ better things we could be doing than talking about our sucky childhoods.”

James leaned his head back against the wall and gave Qrow a wry look. “Sex? Really?”

“That a complaint?”

James shook his head, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You’re ridiculous.” Qrow hesitated, his hand still unmoving on James’ thigh, and James reached up and hooked his hand behind Qrow’s head, pulling him into a kiss. “No,” he said against Qrow’s lips, “it’s not a complaint.”

Qrow grinned and bit down on James’ lower lip, finally moving his hand.

They had to take _another_ shower afterward, but there were worse ways to start the day.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 Nothing in James’ wardrobe even justified owning them. Atlesian culture was shitty about disability, Qrow got that, but James never wore pants that ended above the ankle. Even Qrow and Ozpin barely ever saw his legs, and they were _fucking_ the man. [return to text]
> 
> 2 Rocket science was one of those heavily publicized areas of research that would never go anywhere but somehow kept getting funding from billionaire conspiracy theorists, as if throwing lien at the problem was somehow going to make Dust function outside the atmosphere. [return to text]
> 
> 3 James lived in the Designated Headmaster Suite, which was _way_ too big for an apartment on a literal floating island where space was one of the hardest things to acquire. He’d made a few changes since he moved in—mostly for accessibility—but the apartment was, for the most part, exactly the same as his predecessor left it. His _office_ had more personal touches. [return to text]
> 
> 4 Most people with soulmarks like that Qrow had met, they had some quirky greeting they came up with and always used; something that was recognizable enough their soulmate would know. Some people, though, were Raven Branwen, who matched every "Hi," she got with a dry echo of her own. Maybe Taiyang was her soulmate. Or maybe she really _had_ heard the terrible pun he’d opened with when they’d met, despite her claims. Only Raven would ever know. [return to text]
> 
> 5 It wasn't like either of them had ever talked about it. At any point. Qrow hadn't even been sure if Oz _recognized_ him, when they'd met again at Beacon ten years later.[return to text]


End file.
